Yes! in the noon of that Elysian clime,
Beyond the sphere of anguish, death, or time;
Where mind’s bright eye, with renovated fire,
Shall beam on glories never to expire;
Oh! there th’ illumined soul may fondly trust,
More pure, more perfect, rising from the dust,
Those mild affections, whose consoling light
Sheds the soft moonbeam on terrestrial night,
Sublimed, ennobled, shall for ever glow,
Exalting rapture—not assuaging woe!